Posted 24 June 2005 - 09:52 AM
Gardens of the Moon is a novel I’ve long viewed with ambivalence. A few years back, fresh off being wowed by Martin’s sublime Song of Ice and Fire and armed with a renewed interest in the Epic Fantasy Series, I cast about for the next big thing, sure that someone else must be similarly be injecting life back the increasingly tired and clichéd genre. I saw Erikson recommended, and snagged a copy of GotM and Deadhouse Gates will on a trip to London. I sped through the first 200 pages GotM, promptly stopped, and left it and its sequel untouched for four years.
Now, I didn’t hurl the book across the room so much as toss it gently into the corner, but did run smack into the Eight Deadly Words. For those not initiated into the peculiar patois of rec.arts.sf.written – I Don’t Care What Happens To These People. And so, I bounced of GotM. Hard. Some of the more common criticisms of Erikson involve the in media res nature of GotM, subpar dialogue and sketchy characterization. There’s also a sense of not knowing what the **** is going on that far surpasses most other novels I’ve read that use the same device. (Indeed, there is nothing new about novels that start in media res, and most modern readers should be well used to it.) That in its self was not sufficient to derail my read-through. Combined as it was, though, with the weak characterization, somewhat cheesy names (Anomander Rake? Caladan Brood? It felt like he was using TSR’s villain name-generator) and superhero-like clashes of god tossing about spells and wielding magic swords, I came to place it firmly in the Extruded Fantasy Product camp with the refuse from Jordan, Brooks, and Goodkind. So there it sat, in my mind, as I watched its popularity blossom in fantasy circles, wondering just what was wrong with all these people singing its praises. Books three and four were released to similar acclaim.
I began to feel like I hadn’t given Erikson a fair hearing. I started to absorb the idea that GotM was his weakest work, and that the further entries in the series were much improved. Perhaps my mood simply shifted and I starting looking for a good escapist fantasy yarn. For whatever reason, I gave the book a second chance. After years of criticizing Erikson and attempt to steer prospective readers clear, I come before you to say, I was wrong.
Mostly.
Erikson’s biggest failure is that GotM is most certainly “superhero fantasy.†Figures of inflated power do in fact run around engaging other beings of inflated power in mortal spellcasting duels. At times it feels like the cast of X-Men were released into Middle Earth. That of the mundane, that of human interest that exists in the story, is very much pushed to the sidelines and overshadowed by the machinations of meddling gods and ancient, immortal beings. It is to Erikson’s credit, then, that he makes such things so damn interesting. There is something intriguing in a mythology wherein the gods are not just users but alsi tools, where they wield unsurpassed power and yet are vulnerable to the deeds of mere mortals. The idea of mortals “ascending†to god-hood has been used before, but never so effectively as here, and it integrates flawlessly with the mythology Erikson builds for the reader. There is a real sense of “deep time†here that has taken in many of Erikson’s fans, and there is no denying that the worldbuilding is the series’ greatest achievement to date.
That being said, upon the reread, I found that many of my earlier criticisms have melted away. The prose and dialogue, for example, are nowhere near as bad as I remember. (An analysis likely colored by my switching gears from Martin to Erikson.) While it is not anything special in an absolute, it is certainly better than just about anything else in the multivolume epic fantasy subgenre. And there a bits of prose and dialogue that are genuinely haunting and funny. (My favorite bit of dialogue is in the prologue – which I’m surprised never really paid off later on in interactions between Whiskeyjack and Paran.)
Characterization remains a flaw, however, especially in light of how the actions of the mortals are already overshadowed by the Ascendants’ machinations. I found it difficult, at times, to understand why certain characters acted the way they did, other than to serve the plot. (The rather implausible quickie by Tattersail and Paran, for example, after which Paran spent much of the rest of the novel internally declaring his undying love.) The character of Whiskeyjack, similarly, was sketched in a manner coy enough to be almost inscrutable. But it might pay off down the road. Anyway, to Erikson’s credit again, I kept turning pages at a tremendous pace despite flaws that might cripple other novels. But at this point I’m willing to give Erikson the benefit of the doubt, both because I’m told he improves in later novels and because in my opinion, no one outside of Martin and Bakker are currently writing anything near as epic and compelling. As the series progresses, we shall see whether the storylines involving the non-Ascendants are crafted with the same flair as those involving the magical and the godly.
Once a certain point was reached, in familiarity with the world and in comfort with Erikson’s style, the unanswered questions that threaten to sink the novel at its start become an impetus to keep reading. Surprisingly, though by the end not many are answered, the ending doesn’t leave one feeling cheated – rather, one feels the need to start Deadhouse Gates immediately.
Some of the questions remaining at the book’s end:
Just what are the Warrens? My first reading equated them with DnD “Planes†in that, the Warren of Light (Thry?) must be occupied by the God of Light, and so on, but this seems flawed. In some cases, the god or gods associated with a Warren seem to reside there – Hood, Shadowthrone/Rope for example, but in others this doesn’t seem to hold.
What happened to Dassem Ultor? Why were Kellenved/Dancer overthrown, and what is it they learned in the Azath they entered? What are the Houses of Azath? Who is Kruppe, and why do gods play in his dreams? Why does Quick Ben have a mastery seven warrens, and why is this feat impressive? Why did Kalam leave the Claw? Is Toc the Younger dead? (Based on the writings of his quoted on occasion, I gather not) What happened to Toc the Elder? What is driving Laseen? Who was it with Whiskeyjack in the prologue? (Dujek? Toc the Elder?) Why is Burn sleeping and what happens when it awakens? What game are the Founding and Elder Races playing at? Why is the Pannion Seer a more pressing concern than the Malazan conquest? And so on.* Erikson has built a world here that begs for answers to these questions, and I’m happy to keep reading on to find out.
*The biggest question of all may be, why is this story important, now? Erikson gives us a sense that time extends before and beyond the events of the “Malazan Book of the Fallenâ€. Why are these events important in the grand scheme of things?
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You can go into the Phoenix Inn and intoduce yourself at the New Member Introduction Thread. I'm sorry to say not a lot is happening in the book forums thanks to the book drought lately, but once BH comes out things will pick up again.
